


Winter Solstice

by Immamausoleum



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Arthur loves them too he just doesn't understand, But I through the ship tags in there, I love my Pagan boys ok, Religious Conflict, Self indulgent projection tbh, This isn't exactly shippy or romantic, can be read as non ship tho, cause i ship them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 20:36:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20588711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Immamausoleum/pseuds/Immamausoleum
Summary: At first, he doesn’t catch it. It’s masked by their anger, their violence.“Tristan, that was uncalled for, they’re simple decorations.” he’d said, just after Tristan had unleashed an arrow on a seemingly undeserving wreath hung on someone’s door, just a pretty thing as far as Arthur can tell. He didn’t understand why Tristan had curled his lip in a defiant snarl, eyes narrowed as he returned his bow to it’s place over his shoulder, pacing off to the nearest tavern. The others simply remained quiet, watching as he left, somber. Standing where he was in the snow, eyes lingering on the scout’s footprints, he can’t help but wonder if he’s in the wrong here.(This fic covers the Knights's conflict over the Christian Romans beginning to celebrate Christmas, which was actually a Pagan holiday called Yule or Winter Solstice that was stolen by Christians in order to make conversion easier essentially, and it's mostly focused on the way Arthur sees these things and struggles to understand.)





	Winter Solstice

At first, he doesn’t catch it. It’s masked by their anger, their violence.  
“Tristan, that was uncalled for, they’re simple decorations.” he’d said, just after Tristan had unleashed an arrow on a seemingly undeserving wreath hung on someone’s door, just a pretty thing as far as Arthur can tell. He didn’t understand why Tristan had curled his lip in a defiant snarl, eyes narrowed as he returned his bow to it’s place over his shoulder, pacing off to the nearest tavern. The others simply remained quiet, watching as he left, somber. Standing where he was in the snow, eyes lingering on the scout’s footprints, he can’t help but wonder if he’s in the wrong here. 

"Arthur meant no harm." Bors says to Tristan, passing him a drink only to be denied a response. Of their group, Tristan is the one who's carried out their traditions the longest. As one of the eldest, aside from Bors, he remembers more than the rest. He was raised by the village druid before he was taken, it’s only natural that he would fill that role amidst the knights. Forest witchery, they'd often tease, though in a way it's a comfort. Tristan has never longed for home, not like the rest, because he brought home with him. In his worship, and his practice, the familiar scent of burning herbs, gifts left for the old gods who's names still linger in each of the Knight's minds. So, of course Tristan would feel insulted, stolen from, of course.  
"Those wreaths don't belong on their doors." Galahad says, obviously just as livid as Tristan by this, and the group silently agrees. 

A lovely and grand tree stands proudly in the pavilion, and Arthur thinks it’s a wonderful addition for the spirit of the holiday, certainly an improvement considering how bland the space had been before. When he voices as much, though, his men seem to think otherwise.  
“I may be sick..” Galahad had said under his breath, ducking his head with clenched fists. Lancelot looked bitter, Tristan looked murderous, and rest solemn.  
"It seems not only is your god a liar, he's a thief and a hypocrite as well Arthur. I am no man of worship, but what more can be stripped of us? This is cruel." Lancelot says, meeting Arthur's eyes and shaking his head. "You may care as little as you like about our religion, but your men deserve more consideration." With that, he left, the other knights of the round table following behind, leaving Arthur alone to ponder over the decorated tree. 

The next day the tree was nothing more but ashes and char, and while Arthur wasn’t witness to the burning, he knows it was his men who were guilty. Their anger seemed petty to him, over such a little thing, and yet it scratches at the back of his mind, not leaving him be. Lancelot's words echo in his mind, making him question himself and feel the need for a drink. In the tavern the Romans speak of the burning.  
“Someone burned down our tree last night”  
“Can you believe such a thing? A decoration meant to honor the birth of The Lord, burnt to a crisp!”  
“I’d say it’s Arthurs Knights, godless heathens, *they* should be burned for such a crime.”  
Laughter erupts as the first calls out "I'll drink to that!" and tankards come together with a hearty clunk.  
Suddenly, Arthur no longer wanted the rest of his drink.  
.  
.  
.

The pagan knights had not held up the tradition of celebrating the solstice together. Often they would be fighting on the winter solstice, or traveling, but this year they were settled. Often on their own they would celebrate their own ways, be it a torch being lit or a simple bough of evergreen to represent endless life, the tree that remains full of life sun or snow. Perhaps it's out of spite, or determination to not let something dear to them be spoiled, but it was silently agreed that this solstice, they will celebrate. Each of them brought something different. Bors and Vanora worked an entire day gathering the food for a feast, Galahad and Gawain went to the market to buy vibrantly colored cloth, and supplies to make decorations. Lancelot brought candles and gifts, Tristan was left to gather herbs and spices, selecting their tree and preparing their bonfires. 

Arthur was not invited to their celebration. Not to spite him, but because they fear he will attempt to include his own god, who is not welcome in such a celebration. 

In fact, Arthur didn't even know that they were having a celebration at all, as they never had during the long years of his life that he's known them. He knows very little of their traditions and holidays, now that he truly thinks of it, which saddens him as they've always let him celebrate his own.. Lancelot was right, his knights of the round table do deserve more consideration. He had always thought himself better than the other Romans, respecting their rights to worship the gods of their homeland, it had sickened him to know the ways the other Romans had attempted to convert his Knights when they were trained, and he knows that was not the way of his God. 

It's the smoke from their fires that draws him, and as he reaches the crest of the hill he's met with the sight of a wonderful gathering, each of his beloved men, smiling in a way he's never seen as they sit upon bright red and green cloth. Upon his arrival, though, the men fall silent, watching him. A tree stands decorated beautifully, handmade trinkets and small candles hanging upon it’s branches. The scent of herbs hangs heady in the air, cinnamon and clove, and something sweet that Arthur cannot identify. A feast is laid before them, roast ham and turkey, cakes and nuts, eggnog and cider, apples and oranges that have been studded intricately with clove- it strikes him that this must have taken days of preparation. 

“Come to wish a happy birthday to your Christ, Arthur?”  
Lancelot is the first to speak, meeting Arthur’s eyes with his own as he steps forward, as if to keep Arthur from something that does not belong to him. And Arthur realizes, that this *doesn’t* belong to him, the look of unwelcome in his mens eyes something he’s never seen before. He knows now that he’s done them a great disservice. 

“No.. no. This does not belong to my God. Can you teach me what it means?” Genuinely, he wants to know. So many years he's told them of his own god, each tale of wondrous deeds, so many years he's celebrated his own religions holidays, never to ask after theirs. That's going to change.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm a Pagan, and I deal with a lot of very resentful feelings towards our history and what the Christians did to our people in the past, and getting into the King Arthur fandom brought all of that up to the forefront of my mind and it turns out writing about it was pretty cathartic. This isn't anything against those of the Christian religion mind you, but the rise of the Roman Christians lead to the deaths of... a LOT of Pagans, and a lot of our religions holidays got stolen, there's a lot of misinformation and lies that covered up what was done to us and so the Knights's bitterness over that really hit home for me. Of course I'm aware that their religion is likely not exactly the same as mine, unfortunately because what was done to them the details of it are pretty hard to find, and back then Pagan essentially meant anyone who was deemed uncivilised and non-Christian, and I'm definitely not a history expert but this is my self indulgent self projection fic and I do what I want thanks for coming to my TED talk, might add more focusing on their paganism later if it ever comes to me but?? Maybe not, idk


End file.
